Brothers of Dark Blood (Rewrite)
by GodzillaFollower1998
Summary: A rewrite of my story of the same name, reimagined and redefined! See Alucard, awake in a new world, search for his younger brother named only D. See them bond, see them fight, see them pursue the same goal: The death of their father.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, and welcome to the first chapter Brother of Dark Blood 2.0!**

 **One of my oldest and, surprisingly, well-loved pieces of work, it's been far too long since I have really given it any thought. That being said, I can see many of the mistakes that I have made on it. Some are small, others are quite obvious, but in the end, I wish to update the work. I will redo scenes with some better grammar and words, while completely recreating some scenes altogether.**

 **Please enjoy this resurrected story!**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Castlevania or any related character. It all belongs to Konami. I also don't own Vampire Hunter D or any related character. It all belongs to Hideyuki Kikuchi.**

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Chapter One: The Awakening

No one knew how The Frontier came into being. Or, rather, so much time had passed that the newer generation gave little to no concern for the world they lived in. The threat of Nobility had diminished considerably and, while they still lived and so did the creatures of the night, many children now knew how to hold a weapon and not even blink when having to stake their own family members to save themselves. The people of today were violent, to point of calling the human race even more heartless than their undead oppressors, but it was the only way to exist in a world blanketed by darkness.

Some parts of the Frontier were old, ancient. Older than that before the war, before the nuclear war that allowed the Nobility to take control of the word for so many centuries. There was nary anything of the old world left, save for ruins and artefacts that had survived the destruction, and the Nobility had tried greatly to keep such things hidden. The human race was still an important food source and, with the Nobility in decline, it would do no good to have them start a revolution.

The ruin laid in the moonlight, the wind howling to the point travellers would mistake it for the sounds of ghouls who would try to possess them in their dreams. What was once a crypt of majestic design was now no more than a mere entrance in the side of a mountain. The stone pillars and walls, faded with time, once were decorated with angels and roses. Now they had left black faces in their wake, some leaving slight traces of faces that became ghastly death masks in the moonlight. The white rays illuminated the entrance, but no one would dare step inside. Fear of the possible creatures that could be inside, ranging from cave-dwelling trolls to maggots who would spit acid, kept them away. They had no way of knowing, though, that there were no such creatures inside. The cave, a perfect place to rest or call home, was barren. The creatures of the night were too afraid to go inside.

Wrapped in darkness, untouched for aeons, was a crypt. Even though it had been locked away out of time and thought for so long, the six pillars that held up the roof of the crypt stood as strong as the day they had been crafted. The pillar's artwork was also faded. Cobwebs hung in-between the top of the pillars and swayed slightly with the wind. A coffin made of stone laid in the middle of both sets of the pillars, covered with dust. The ruin was once an old burial vault. A resting place made for coffin's occupant.

The ruin was once an old burial vault.

A resting place made for the coffin's occupant.

For so many years the creature had hovered through the void. Cold, dark and bottomless, he went through it as weightless as a ghost. He was a brain, a soul without a body, and that was fine with him.

The great, peaceful sleep.

Where there was no violence, where there was no man, where there was no pain and no reasonability. He was totally alone, as his life has always been destined to be, and for once he did not mind the loneliness. But his peace was marred, for broken little pieces of the outside world stabbed into his mind and played before him. Jagged bits that told him the story of the world he had left behind; a world that was not the world he had left.

He knew it all. The war that destroyed the world, the fall of man and the rise of all the night creatures, the ongoing decline of the vampires and his _father_ who had made himself into something of a God. It was these thoughts that made him was to find a way _out_ of the void, to see the light and find the bastard that he thought had _changed_. That he thought he had saved. The man, his _father_ , who had broken the final wish of his mother. But such thoughts left as quickly as they came, and he was once again sent tumbling through nothingness.

But now, now things were different.

There was something else in the world now, a new presence that struck him even greater than the blasts of the weapons that had destroyed man's world and the presence of his father. A new, familiar yet so alien presence. Then there were the pieces, larger and sharper than anything before. Events, battles, people, and death. A man, cold as ice and cruel as death, with a face young and so beautiful. A beauty that left him stunned. Not so much the beauty itself, but the familiarity of it. He recognised the young man's species right off, but it was the essence that left him dumbstruck. He could never mistake such a feeling.

 _"Another."_

 _"There is another."_

 _"Like me."_

 _"A...brother."_

His mind, trapped in a limbo-like state, sparked to life. These thoughts were even stronger than the thought of him killing his father. A heart that hardly ever pulsed started up again with a powerful beating. Lungs inhaled stale air. Bones and muscles popped and cracked from years of stillness. He smelled death, heavy and burning. Light flared like the sun. He dived into it unflinchingly.

Over 10,000 years of stillness were shattered when the coffin lid was flown off and smashed into the walls, breaking into dust. The sound destroyed every bit of silence. The coffin's occupant inhaled his first breath in the new world, and his eyes opened calmly. They were pure gold.

Slowly rising until he was in a sitting position, he regarded himself. He was clad in an ornate black coat with gold trimmings, with a waistcoat held together by silver buckles, and his large cuffs were folded back till his elbows. His hands were covered by black gloves, his long legs were encased in glossy black knee-high boots and a voluminous cape was draped over his broad shoulders, clasped by a metal chain. His face could only be described as beautiful, statuesque even. Like gleaming marble that had been sculpted by a master. His long, white blonde hair hung down his shoulders.

The face of Adrian Fahrenheit Ţepeş, or Alucard as he preferred, pitched into a mournful expression. His voice, deep and even and not having changed an iota since he had fallen asleep, mirrored his countenance. "I've failed." He said, the words coming out more like a confession of sin.

But, in his eyes, that was entirely the case.

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It took time for the blood to properly circulate throughout his body, for him to feel his limbs again, but once the feeling had returned to his legs he headed straight for the entrance of his tomb. He had to see the world, he had to see what had become of the world he had left behind. He did not try to reassure himself by thinking that the things he had seen were just a dream. Such human things would not do anything for him. But that did not mean that he could not feel, and this was proven thusly when he saw the barren landscape that was once a beautiful forest. The despair that the sight granted hit Alucard like a tidal wave, almost making him fall to his knees and roar until his lungs burst. He did not allow himself to fall.

He put all emotions aside and went forth, walking into the new world with his goal in mind: Finding his brother.

The thought still baffled the Dhampir, for numerous reasons. Alucard had spent his entire life growing up as the only spawn of Dracula, conceived from the pairing of his human mother and father, his birth was regarded as both a miracle and a curse, for the birth of a healthy and long living Dhampir was rare. Those born from weaker vampiric bloodlines tended to die at birth. The curse of his life came from being the son of Dracula, for both carrying the bloodline of his father and for inheriting all the strengths of his darker kin.

His immortality was his curse. How many lives had he lived through, how many friends and loved ones were dust now? For the life of him, Alucard could barely remember. Age is finally catching up with him.

Alucard didn't know how or why his father had decided to have another child but knew with certainty that this child was brought into the world without any of the love or care that he himself had been raised with. What confused the Dhampir was why had he only awoken to this child's presence now, when he had been around for nearly 5000 years. It didn't make any sense, and while Alucard wondered if his father or some kind of magical creature had placed a spell on him while he slept, such things were irrelevant.

The fact still remained: He had a brother, a _little_ half-brother. There was something in this new world that he could go to, someone he could be with. All those that he knew may have been gone, but he took some comfort in knowing that he was _completely_ alone in the world.

His white-blond hair blew about him in the wind as he walked out into the barren land, taking the first feel of the night as the rays of the moonstruck his being and felt the cold air on his skin. It was blissful, to feel such things again. It had been far too long. He chose to remain in his clothing, not caring if they stood out to the people of this world. They were, as he painfully came to realise, one of the only two things he had left that reminded him of his own time. The second was his mother's sword which, even after all this time, still retained its strength.

Alucard came to a stop when his senses sharpen, something was moving underneath the ground. Something was coming. His sharp eyes saw the groves in the sand, and his hearing could detect was sound like tittering. Then, giant pincers burst from the ground and what appeared to be giant beetles came into the night. Four in total, as big as waggons, they circled the Dhampir and stared at him with black eyes.

A human would have run in terror at the sight of such creatures, but to Alucard, the sight only served to remind him of his goal. Find his brother, and then slay his father. He also felt a surge of—excitement. His full lips curled into a small smile, yet his eyes held a feral glee. Never, in his life, had he been more eager to cut something up. He did not feel any bloodlust, not yet at least, but was aware of the rage that bubbled dangerously close beneath his skin. These creatures, whatever they were, now stood as the perfect means for him to vent some of his anger. If only a little.

Pulling his blade free of its sheath with a hiss, he took the blade in both hands stood very still. The air around him picked up, making his clothing and hair fluttering. His eyes remained golden, yet his incisors elongated into fangs and bit into his lower lip. He tasted his own blood and felt power shoot through him like a poison-tipped arrow and each muscle in his body awoke. Dhampirs could feed and gain strength off their own blood.

The beetles charged. Alucard roared and swung his longsword in a wide arc. He would kill these creatures, find a settlement of some kind and find his brother.

That was his mission, his new purpose.

And then—he would find his father.

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 **There you have it, chapter one reimagined!**

 **I hope this was worth the wait!**

 **Expect the next chapter coming soon!**


	2. Non-Canon Christmas Special Chapter

**Nothing to see here.**

 ** **Disclaimer - I don't own Castlevania or any related character. It all belongs to Konami. I also don't own Vampire Hunter D or any related character. It all belongs to Hideyuki Kikuchi.****

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"That has been forgotten too."

The numb words, spoken through lips dulled by desolation, should have been completely lost in the abandoned saloon. Utterly alone on a long stretch of a road, wrecked by time and almost taken back by nature, it was a perfect place to hide from the elements as snow battered down outside. Adrian's golden eyes peered through the gapes in the wooden boards placed over the window, watching the white particles cover the land in inches of whiteness. He felt pity for the horses left outside, wondering idly if the elements would impede their function.

Only his companion would know the answer.

And only his companion, with hearing that could detect the droplets of moisture deep within caves, heard his uttered words. In a voice just as low, nearly completely monotonous, he asked. "What's been forgotten?"

Adrian turned to regard D; the younger Dhampir clad in clothes of dark blue that almost seemed black in the faint glow of the candlelight before him. He sat on a lone table, so still that he could have been mistaken for a statue carved to perfection. Or so humans would say. "Christmas," He replied. "A time of merriment and joy for all. The birth of Christ." He felt almost childish for explaining such things because such things should have been known to all. But, ever since passing the last habitable village two days ago, it seemed as though the Christmas spirit was drained from the world.

Hoarse chuckling slivered from D's left hand. D, erstwhile, showed not a flicker of emotion. "Holidays are far and few between on The Frontier."

"So I have noticed. The few celebrations I have seen involve the burning of vampire figureheads and cultural festivals that are as alien to me as the technology within the horses."

"Then you shouldn't be so surprised."

"But I am."

"Why?"

"Because it is _Christmas_."

D's head rose just enough so that his silver-blue eyes met Adrian's gold from under the wide rim of his hat. Such a look would make women swoon and men feel inadequate. Adrian, dressed in the same clothing he had fallen into his long rest in, only felt that he shouldn't have said anything. "That's not an answer."

And the older Dhampir, older by _centuries_ , felt a familiar stab of pain in his chest as though he had been run through by his mother's own sword. Even now, it still hurt to see how removed his half-brother was. Even when he didn't need to be. Not around him.

Adrian smiled indulgently. Smiles came easily to him. As did the memories of his past. Distantly, he heard the jingle of bells and the laughter of a woman and her child. "No, 'tis not. I…" He sighed, eyes falling to the ground. "I do not know how to explain it in a way you would understand. I just…things from my past, rise up. Memories of happy times."

D said nothing. Adrian liked to think that words didn't come easily to him. "I was very young when I experienced my first Christmas. I remember Mother and Father arguing. Father, of course, had been very against the idea of holding a holiday for a deity he turned his back on. Mother, likewise, had never been one to back down from getting what she wanted. I remember then standing close to one enough, near chest to chest, daring the other one to back down. Neither of them did. Father still refused, whilst Mother remained adamant on the matter. In the end, she decided to take me away for 'a little getaway', she called it."

"God, he sounds like an old man. _YEOWCH!_ " Adrian paused at the voice's comment and looked up just in time to see D curl his left hand into a tight fist, knuckles bleached white. His head had lowered again, face hidden under the rim of his hat. Adrian waited for his half-brother to say something. Nothing came from under the hat's rim.

"Mother took us to a small cottage some distance away from Father's castle. In it was this old woman, one of her patients. She was a dear thing, very kind to us. Mother had me call her Grandma. She made treats and sung songs, took me outside to see the snow and then into the local village."

Adrian took a breath and he could remember, so clearly in his mind: The smell of the Christmas pudding cooking, the melting wax of the candles by the windows and the elderly woman's gentle touch as she looked him over. He remembered hiding behind his mother, clinging to her with the embarrassed stubbornness that only a child could possess. He remembered his mother's laughter and felt his heartache.

"The whole village was in the festive season." He looked off over the saloon's long stall, not really seeing it. "Mother made it very clear to me that I was to say nothing of my heritage, so I was to say I knew nothing of Father if asked. The children pulled me away to play with them. They thought I was odd, but they were never cruel."

He remembered the boys, the gapes in some of their teeth and their competitiveness as he excelled in their games. He remembered the girls and how they stopped the boys from getting angry, how their wide eyes sparkled and lingered on him. His mother and the elderly lady had laughed when he told them.

"But what I remember the most was what happened after we had returned. My mother was telling me about Jesus and what Christmas time meant when there was a knock at the door. The elderly lady had expected no one else. And when she answered it, there he was. Father, standing there, with snow collecting on his shoulders. To this day, I cannot forget how uncomfortable he looked as he asked to come in. Mother looked so shocked to see him. The old woman looked as though he were the first man she had ever seen before. And then there was me, running to embrace him, a 'Merry Christmas!' leaving my lips."

Adrian remembered how still his father had become before strong arms slowly moved to return the embrace. Only he, with his sharp hearing, had heard his father's ever so faint 'Merry Christmas.' He had pulled away, watching as his parents pressed their lips into s deep kiss as they embraced each other. The man also known as Alucard could not, for the life of him, think of any other time his mother had ever look so happy. The same went for his father.

Turning to face D, the younger Dhampir remained where he was. He was so still that anyone passing would have possibly mistaken him for being asleep. But Adrian could hear his breathing and knew better. "To have such good memories…

"Must be nice." There was a longing in those words, so deep and fathomless, that Adrian realized only then what a complete fool he had been. There he had been rambling on about days long passed, days that had been good for a creature like him, whilst D was resigned to listen and perhaps think of cold days without knowing such warmth.

There was still so much about him that Adrian didn't know. Still so much of his soul left hidden away, buried behind centries of self-induced solitude.

Silence ruled for a long breath before Adrian found words again. "It is," He said lightly, waking forward. He pulled back the chair on the opposite side of the table D sat at and lowered himself into it. "But you know? It isn't so much the holiday that I miss, for that was all it was: A holiday. It is the things I did with my mother that I long to relive."

D remained still, head lowered, giving no hint that he was paying attention or taking any word Adrian said with any credibility. Adrian liked to think that he was listening, so he continued.

"I remember my Mother's smile, in the glow of my bedside light. She would tuck the blankets beneath my chin, to settle me for the night. In the stories that she would tell me, they had the magic now, so it seems. They all began 'once upon a time, in a land of fairytale dreams'.

It was playing before his eyes, the end of that first Christmas. Lisa Tepes, blonde and beautiful, sitting beside the bed in the guest bedroom. The old lady had retired early. She told him a story without any book, perhaps making it up on the spot.

"There'd be a princess that no man could resist; she would turn a frog into a prince with just a kiss. And a knight in shining armour with a magic sword, Mother would act it out word for word. And when it came to the part where the hero died, she'd cuddle me while I cried. And she'd whisper in my ear: 'Don't you worry, my dear, heroes never die.'

As she dried his tears and held him close, he remembered peering over her shoulder. Standing by the door, looking in but choosing not get involved, was Father.

"But the greatest hero in my life, she never killed a dragon or left any troll dead. She was just a plain and simple woman, who breathed life into father's cold heart, and each night tucked me in my bed. And when I think of Mother and her love and her touch, and how we all laughed so much. And even though I miss her terribly, I shouldn't, really…"

When it occurred to Adrian that D had remained more silent than usual, for him at least, he stopped. He looked at the younger Dhampir and wait for him to say something, whether it'd be to tell him to stop or ask him what was wrong. D said nothing, his breathing deep and even. Curious, Adrian gently reached forward and tugged the rim of his hat upwards slightly.

D's eyes were closed and, in sleep, he looked peaceful. Adrian felt something in his chest warm like the flickering candle in-between the two of them and fell back into his chair. "Why should I? Heroes never die."

For a while, nothing happened. The storm raged outside, the snow on the ground grew thicker, and the candle dwindled in size. It wasn't until the flame was about to snuff itself out, in which that time t became clear that D was fully asleep, that Adrian decided that it was time to get his brother to a better location. Quietly, he rose from his chair and went round to D. Very gently; he reached out, collected the younger Dhampir in his arms and pulled him up. D cloak fell down before Adrian like a waterfall of darkness in faint light the candle provided, blocking out the colours of Adrian's clothing.

They were a living portrait of pure perfection as Adrian took D to the living quarters. Clearly, the previous owner never left the wooden walls of his saloon. He ascended the rotting staircase at a leisurely pace, being mindful of the steps that were especially fragile. In no time at all, they were there, a room with a single bedroom. Adrian knew, or rather liked to assume, that D wouldn't mind sleeping on the withered mattress as he laid him upon it.

Just as he was about to step away and head back downstairs, a hoarse voice spoke. "That was beautiful."

Looking back, Arian saw D's left hand laying on the edge of the bed. The palm was facing him and on that palm was a face. A face with beady black eyes and a mouth. A face more at home on an old man. The face of the Countenanced Carbuncle. "I mean, it was bit drawn out and sappy as all hell, but beautiful. Really."

Adrian smirked and lowered himself to one knee, his voice dropping to a faint whisper. "I could hardly explain my past in a single word."

"Yeah, well, D liked it. Seriously, he actually enjoyed your tale."

Adrian looked at his brother's peaceful face, feeling warmth flood his chest. Not pride, he recognized, but something different. Greater and deeper. "Truly?"

"I'm linked to the guy, remember? He may not like it, but I can feel his emotions. Everyone we've ever met thinks he's emotionless, he's not. He just keeps it all locked away. And it's been hard with you, you know, but he has been trying. I know. He's become…lighter, you know? The weight he carries is a bit lesser when you're around."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, and who knows? Maybe he'll start dressing better, too."

A hand flew to cover Adrian's mouth, a spluttered snort escaping past the fingers. He took a moment to collect himself. "I think we are quite far away from that."

"Yeah? Ah well, one hopeless battle at a time."

With a soft, amused sound, Adrian rose to his feet and turned to leave. H only made it a step away before the Countenanced Carbuncle spoke again. "Y'know, D's also beginning to like having company when he wakes up."

Another smile made its way to Adrian's lips before, wordlessly; he lowered himself to the ground. He dared a glance at the left hand and saw that it was just a left hand, the small face gone. His eyes then trailed upwards, to the peaceful face of his brother. The space between the man's fair brows creased.

So many things to do—

And all at once, he purged the thoughts from his mind. Tonight, and only tonight was one where he could sleep without his worries.

He closed his eyes with a soft sigh, allowing sleep to lure him away. He was faintly aware of the words leaving his lips:

"Merry Christmas, D."

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 **A very late Christmas special chapter.**

 **Yes, this story is not dead. It's just been on the back burner.**

 **My New Year's Revolution? To work harder, write more, and enjoy my days!**

 **So to all you, my faithful readers, I wish you all a (very late) Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!**


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